Empire
by CodenameLan
Summary: After being seduced by Trianna Eragon journeys to Ellesmera to aid them in the battle with the Empire. Eragon must first duel his rival and brother Murtagh-- but what comes after? Perhaps the King himself? Constructive criticism appreciated.
1. Chapter 1: Trianna

Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon, Saphira, Trianna or Arya.

Chapter One

Trianna

Eragon grimaced in pain as he went through the early morning stretching exercises that Oromis had taught him. He bent his body this way and that, and sweat slid down his unmarred skin sparkling like crystals, leaving behind a trail of moisture as they gathered at his fingertips and dripped down. Eragon held the pose—one drip, two drip, three drips…. Ninety three drips…

_You stink_ Saphira snorted, blowing a small puff of smoke in his direction. Eragon coughed, nodded, and still coughing, stripped his clothes and took a bath.

However, he had just finished washing, and only had his breeches on when an urgent pressure tapped on his mind. He threw up his mental barriers, but he realized that it was Trianna.

_Shadeslayer, come quickly._ Her tone was urgent. Without putting on a shirt, Eragon yanked on boots, and took off on Saphira's back.

_What's wrong?_ She asked, as three strong flaps of her enormous wings carried them into the air.

Eragon frowned. _I'm not sure—but her tone was pretty urgent._ Then, he shivered.

_You're not wearing your holed sack today._

_It's called a shirt, and the holes are there on purpose._

_Who would want a holey shirt!?_ Saphira guffawed. Eragon was about to answer, but Saphira suddenly angled downwards, and all Eragon could do was hold as tightly as possible to the neck spike in front of him, trying not to fall off, even with his legs buckled into place. Right before Eragon thought that Saphira would dive into the earth, burrowing hundreds of feet below, pale sapphire wings shot out on both sides of him, and the two pulled out of the dive with a head-jerking lurch.

_That was a little… overdone_ said Saphira, knowing that she would be incredibly sore the next day. Then, with an exaggeratedly heavy flap of her wings, Saphira took off to hunt. _Call me with your mind, I'll be back by your side in the blink of an eye, but right now, I need to eat something to provide you with energetic assistance, shall you need it._

Eragon rolled his eyes, then with his mind, searched for where Trianna was. She was in her room. Eragon pursed his lips. What could be going on? He drew his sword, Brisingr, and held it in front of him as he cautiously entered the small cave where Trianna lived. His footsteps echoed off of the stony enclosure, the vibrations of the echoes making his sword give off a clean, hollow hum.

He paused and held still for a long time, listening with his pointed ears.

"Shadeslayer."

Eragon twirled around, knees bent, sword raised, in a defensive stance. He lowered the stance some when he saw that it was Trianna who had called him. Then, his eyes widened, taken aback at what he saw. Trianna stood before him, scantly clothed. Her painted red lips curled up in a seductive smile, and her long-lashed eyes lowered. Her dress was low cut, and her breasts were displayed and powdered like two fat white doves, only meagerly covered by a lacy undergown.

Eragon gulped, only too glad he had let Saphira fly off to hunt. If Saphira had been with him, Trianna would have been torn to shreds by an angry, jealous, over-protective dragon.

Eragon's heartbeat quickened and he blushed, but his defensive stance moved into a more neutral defensive/offensive stance. Trianna took a step forward. Eragon raised his sword.

"Oh, _Shadeslayer_. Please, let me show you how to indulge in one of the greatest human pleasures. Don't lie to me, Argetlam. You not only desire to touch a woman, you desire the touch of a woman, and your heartbeat quickens as your gaze wanders to various parts of my body. Let go of your sword, and let me show you." Trianna tore off the lace of her gown, and it fell to a pile around her ankles. Eragon tried to move, but he could not.

"You cannot move, Shadeslayer. Your mind cannot contact outside help. Nobody can hear us in this tent. Saphira cannot move either. You two are now under my will." Trianna grinned.

Eragon's mind swirled. How could Trianna be that powerful? Where did she get the spell? The vast amounts of energy?

"I may let you in on a little secret, _Eragon_. I have the assistance of another extremely powerful consciousness. Even if I die, the spell will last until you find the other being."

Then, Trianna stripped Eragon of his armor, and took off his cotton shirt. She pressed herself onto the flat planes of his torso, and slid her cold hands down his back, making him shiver.

Though his heart raced and he blushed, Eragon felt disgusted.

Suddenly, a tall, graceful figure entered, without knocking. Her pale, angled features contrasted against the glossy dark of her hair. Then silent as an ant walking on cotton, Arya stepped across the cave-room and slit Trianna's throat. Hot blood spurted onto Eragon's bare chest, and the sorceress crumpled by Eragon's feet, clutching at the pants she had not taken off of him yet, hot blood soaking the cotton material. Then, her hands let go and she thudded onto the carpeted rock ground. Her eyes stared blankly.

Eragon was still not able to move completely, but he realized that he could now contact Saphira, who he confirmed was indescribably outraged, though she could, like him, not move. He then found that his mouth muscles and face muscles had regained movement.

"Arya."

"Don't. I know." She quickly draped a tablecloth over Eragon. "Did she say anything to you?"

Eragon nodded. "There's another being that's helping her hold this control over not only me but Saphira as well. How she didn't overexert herself I don't understand, and I don't have any idea what other being is powerful enough to do this." Eragon then let Arya examine the memory, leaving out the seducing bits.

Arya's brow creased as she contemplated all the possibilities of Trianna's words. Then, shock crossed her face. "Eragon, Trianna said that she had another _consciousness_ aiding her. What if… what if it's a heart of hearts!?"

Eragon felt Saphira's shock and jubilation at the possibility of another heart of hearts being in their reachable midst.

Then, suddenly, Trianna's body twitched, and a large, pale blue stone appeared in her lifeless hands.

The consciousness of an ancient being swallowed the room. The force of the energy emanating from the stone sent Arya and Eragon to their knees.

The consciousness that brushed onto Eragon's mind was old- older than Alagaesia. Older than the world, and the consciousness was time itself, yet Eragon knew that was not possible. The presence of the mind seemed omniscient, yet Eragon knew that was not possible. The depths of the being were vast and infinite, yet Eragon knew that was not possible.

_I am Akvthghae. I called you, Rider, Kin, and Elf. I called you through the woman-mage. I am here, Rider, and Kin to teach you of the true ways of the Riders. I am the first and oldest Dragon._

The voice penetrated their minds, their souls, and their beings. Only Saphira seemed to not recoil from the power that saturated the mental presence.

Then, with caution, Arya asked _How did Trianna get ahold of your heart of hearts?_

_I let her._ Came the simple answer.

_I thought Galbatorix had control over all the existing heart of hearts but Saphira's and Glaedr's. _

The mental roar that came was deafening. _DO NOT INSULT ME, HATCHLING._ _My presence is ancient, and I am no longer just a heart of hearts. This is now merely a tool of direct communication. I am part of the waters, earths, and winds. My mind resonates within the rock, animals, and insects. The energy of the earth is the energy of me. The Beor Mountains once were my tall, ferocious spikes. The Hadrac Desert is the dry, hot plane of my firey stomach. Even hotter is the core beneath the land._

Then, the presence released, them, and Arya and Eragon fell to the floor, gasping and clutching at their bleeding ears and thumping chests. Then, there was a flapping overhead, and Saphira stuck as much of her head in as she could through the closed window, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. Eragon noticed that one shard of glass was about to hit the pale, sparkling blue stone but it melted before it reached the stone. With great care, Eragon picked the stone up off the ground. The stone was the color of the sky, with sparkling quartz-like white flecks here and there, like clouds dotting the heavens. The shine of the heart of hearts reflected his face, and the stone wall behind him. With a great cry, Eragon clutched the stone to his chest.

_WE WILL DEFEAT THE EMPIRE!_


	2. Chapter 2: Reoccurence

**A/N:** Thanks so much to IzXIzzieXIzzahtul and Jessie for their encouragement. I probably would have dropped the story if it weren't for you :).

Writing reviews really helps-- constructive criticism helps me improve, and I really appreciate people giving me feedback on what they thought about the story, whether they liked it or not. If you wouldn't mind sparing a minute to write about an error you found, or a word of encouragement, please do so, I really look forward to reviews! Thanks!

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Arya, Eragon, and Saphira stood in front of Nasuada, who had frozen, looking at them in shock and horror. She closed her eyes and took a moment to recompose herself.

"Trianna." Nasuada shook her head, the beads in her hair clacking as they swayed back and forth. "I should have known. She'd always given me a bad feeling. But, who will take her place among the Varden's spellcasters? Who will…" Her voice faltered. Then, an expression of renewed determination crossed her face as she contemplated the complex situation. "It seems that Galbatorix has more people posted here than we thought. Where on earth did she get so much strength and energy to hold both you and Saphira as prisoner?"

Arya and Eragon exchanged a worried glance.

"We cannot tell you." Arya finally said, after a long silence. "It is one of the greatest secrets of Alagaesia. Nobody cannot interrogate from you what you do not know."

Nasuada pursed her lips. "Don't tell me you are keeping this information from me merely because you wish to keep me safe?"

Eragon nodded. "That, and the rest of the millions of beings out there."

Then, very subtly, Nasuada reached towards the three of them with her mind, _Is it the source of Galbatorix's power?_

Neither Arya nor Eragon made a move to answer.

Nasuada sighed. "Very well, I respect that. You are dismissed."

*******************************************************************

_-Seven days later, flying over the Hadrac desert back to Ellesmera with Akvthghae._

Eragon and Saphira soared high in the night sky, so as to avoid being spotted by soldiers. Arya sat behind Eragon, and both of them had their minds linked to Akvthghae, and were listening to Akvthghae tell them of Galbatorix's magic.

_With the right training,_ Akvthghae murmured_ You could defeat Galbatorix. You, hatchling, are currently no more than a bumbling fool. But I will address you with the honorific of 'finiarel' because you are indeed full of potential. We will first aid Ellesmera in its battle against the empire, but we will train until the red-dragon Rider arrives. I trust that when the time comes, you will be able to defeat your half-brother. _Eragon recoiled. How did Akvthghae know that Murtagh was not only related to him, but he was, to be precise, his half brother? _Hatchling, I am one with all of Alagaesia. How can I not know? The trees moan to me, the grasses and the winds whisper to me, and the animals speak of all sorts of going-ons._ Eragon mumbled something about privacy, but he did not argue with the old Eldunari.

The group ascended as the first rays of dawn began to spread across Alagaesia. They ate and drank, and while Eragon and Saphira slept (or went into the elf-like state of peace for Eragon), Arya took the first guard shift. It wasn't long before Eragon leapt out of the tent, his armor half-donned, and his sword in his right hand. Arya had her sword drawn as well. Akvthghae had alerted both of them to the presence of men on horses. It was not long before they saw the men in the distance, because the wormy desert scrub was the only vegetation there—incapable of concealing even a rabbit, let alone a group of twenty something men.

Eragon and Arya took some steps forward. The men temporarily disappeared behind a dune that Eragon knew could not be there, so close to the edge of the desert. With his mind, he found the magician who was creating the illusion, rammed down the protective barriers around the man's mind, and asked _Friend or foe?_ But the man did not answer—his thoughts were thrown into a state of disarray due to his fear of Eragon. _Don't kill me don't kill me!_

Eragon caught a few flickers of images and thoughts. Then, he crushed the magician.

"Slavers." He said to Arya. "A pregnant woman just died naught but a few seconds ago. They enslaved a pregnant woman, and about ten others."

Arya's eyes grew cold. "Well, I can see that you've gotten rid of whoever was making the illusion."

With the magician dead, Eragon and Arya could see that it was not just twenty horsebacked men, there was another twenty, all armored and carrying a weapon, with thirty or so women chained to their horses. They left the corpse of the pregnant woman behind them. Eragon noticed that there were no children, or men. As they drew closer, the women all seemed to be of a young age, perhaps seventeen or so. A wagon rattled behind them, pulled by two starving horses.

Then, the group stopped about forty feet from Eragon and Arya. The men eyed Saphira with a fearful interest. They then nodded towards Eragon's blade, then drew their own.

"Oh, back-stabbing Empire-traitor," one man drawled towards Eragon. "Before we exchange blows, let me make a proposition." He grinned, scratching his disgusting lice-infested beard. "As you see, you are sorely outnumbered. We have here forty well-trained men, and we wear the protection of the king and are bound to him, though we are not his soldiers. Let us pass and we will inflict no harm upon you, or your currently slumbering dragon."

"No." Eragon stated simply.

_Eragon, I know you can handle these men, but do you need me to toast them into crisps right now?_

_Saphira, these are slavers. If you burn them, I fear you may burn their hostages as well. You are right, Arya and I are more than a match for these men. Go back to sleep so that you may be energized for our long flight tonight._ Saphira agreed.

"Well, then, let me make another proposition. Defeat ten of our best swordsmen. If you can do that, we will turn our hostages over to you. If not, you give us that fine young girl." He pointed his grubby finger to Arya. Then, in a flurry of movement so fast that only Eragon noticed, Arya threw a dagger at the outstretched finger. The spinning dagger and the severed digit fell to the ground, the crimson blood seeping into the hot yellow sand. There was not even time for the man to realize what had happened and contemplate the his shock. Arya stepped forward, covering the distance in a matter of seconds. This time, it was the man's head that fell to the ground.

The horse did not budge, as Arya had been calming it with her mind the entire time. The group gaped at the frighteningly strange scene: a beautiful woman just beheaded their leader, and his horse did not even rear in surprise or fear.

"A life for a life!" Shouted one man, then stabbed the young woman next to him with his sword. There was screaming from the enslaved women as the man withdrew his bloodied sword from her torso, and she fell to the ground. The other men laughed.

And then there was death.

It was mostly Arya—Eragon had never seen her so enraged. She flew at the soldiers, spinning, kicking, dodging, stabbing, twisting, and blocking. Eragon guarded her back, and calmed the animals.

When the fighting was over, Eragon bade the women to get onto the horses. He saw that in the wagon, there was a store of dry foods. He fed some of the dried apples to the emaciated horses, then helped draw water from the ground, but away from the blood.

"Head southwest from here" he said, unlacing a compass from the corpse of a slaver. "Get to Bullridge, on the Ramr river. If you want, you can follow the river north to Gil'ead. Be careful."

After the group thanked Eragon and Arya, they headed toward the direction Eragon had indicated. As soon as they were out of sighed, Eragon twisted around, and advanced towards Arya. The situation sent a pang of pain through him as he remembered encountering a similar dilemma, but with Murtagh at his side.

"You killed them so decisively, Arya. You killed them for WHAT REASON?" Eragon had never been so enraged at Arya before. She merely stared back at him, her eyes cold. She then lowered her eyes, and cleaned her sword. Eragon turned around, and picked his way through the bodies to see if he could save anyone. There was a man who moaned, and Eragon turned to see who, but Arya was faster.

"_Jierda_," she whispered, and the man was silent.

Eragon stopped walking. A chill crept over him. This was not the Arya that he knew.

"ARYA. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Eragon sprinted towards her, tripping over bodies and limbs. He grabbed her shoulders, and shook her, hard. Something on Arya's face glinted.

A single tear slipped from her emotionless eyes, and swirled with the blood and grime on her cheek. It was followed by another, then another and another, and the tears gathered at her chin, than dripped down, seeping into her collar.

"Arya," Eragon whispered. "Why?"


	3. Chapter 3: Encounter

"Why, Arya?" Eragon repeated. His voice shook with anger, distrust, and worry.

"It's better for them this way." Arya finally said. "It's either this, or face my wrath later. These men ought to thank you, Eragon, for if it had been me, I would not have given them a chance to negotiate."

"Arya?" Eragon had never seen Arya this way before. A tingle of uneasiness crept up his spine. "Tell me!"

Arya shook his hands off of her shoulders in an oddly gruff way. "These men are what they are and will stay what they are: dead. They are rapists and slavers. But when they are dead, what difference would that make?"

"Rapists and slavers?"

"Eragon," Arya continued, "You only browsed the minds of those men in order to find the spellcaster. I, however, skimmed the minds of the women. They have all been mistreated. They are subjected to this treatment every single day. Their numbers started at one hundred. Due to childbirth and miscarriage, they have dwindled to their current numbers. These men deserved to die much more horrid deaths."

Eragon was speechless. Since when did Arya care so much about the well being of human women outside of the Varden? Since when had Arya took it upon herself to kill those she deemed unworthy of life?

The rest of the ride was silent and uncomfortable. Even Saphira did not comment. It was Arya who broke the brittle silence.

"Fine. I will tell you." Arya's voice sounded sad, worn, and… a little different? Eragon had not noticed before.

"There is no obligation for you to inform me of why you did away with those men."

"Yes," Arya hesitated, "but I want to. Like you, Eragon, I have had my fortune read as well. I didn't kill those men because they were sadistic criminals. I killed them because I had no choice. Frelavae, the elf who read my fortune, said, "_The Lone One left lone on sands of a sandy plain will rise to keep the black King black. The Lone one left lone on sands of a sandy plain shall be mauled by the flames of a flaming sword. The Lone one left lone on sands of a sandy plain will strive lest you win the race to the elf city."_

"So you mean… somebody we leave behind, injured by Brisingr, will help Galbatorix greatly unless we get to Ellesmera first?" Eragon confirmed.

Arya nodded. "However, listen to the rest. _This man will travel atop a shining steed, his mistresses at both sides. This man will only die by the hand of the one who holds his heart."_

Eragon frowned, deep in thought. "Holds his heart?"

"The one he loves," explained Arya. "Any of those men could have been him. He could have been a plain soldier, or one of those men on the horses. There is also the possibility that he was not part of that group. Either way, he must be a formidable swordsman or magician. View critically, Eragon, it is better to be overcautious than not cautious enough."

"I can't possibly remember everyone I've injured with my sword, though."

"It has to be anyone we meet on the Hadrac Desert."

"But we can't just kill everyone with a slight chance of being him. That would be murdering too many innocent people!"

"Is a life for the demise of the Black King Galbatorix not a sacrifice noble enough?"

"You are not Arya."

Arya turned to Eragon. "What do you mean?"

Eragon paused for a moment, reaching towards the Akvthghae's mind.

_Akvthghae-elda. Is this the Arya who was with us when you appeared in Trianna's hands?_

The answer was mocking. _Could you not tell? Of course not! Arya was not Arya halfway through her guard shift. You and Saphira were dreaming pleasant dreams, while Arya was bound by powerful magic and thrown into a pit._

_Why!_ Eragon could barely contain his fury. _Why were Saphira and I not informed of this!?_

_I wanted to see what would happen. Arya will not die, take my word for that._

Eragon was only slightly reassured at Akvthghae's words. He knew that the old dragon would not wish for her death when she was such an important factor in getting to Ellesmera.

"Well," said the fake-Arya, "I can see you have no idea what you are talking about. Perhaps you should rest."

"Yes." Eragon agreed. "Saphira, let's land." Then, Eragon conveyed what he had just discovered to Saphira, who showed little surprise. _I thought she felt different. It must be one powerful illusion or trick to make us believe this imposter was Arya! _

Saphira was still several feet off of the ground when Eragon jumped off. He shook his limbs out a little to make them less stiff. Then, the fake Arya dismounted and smiled at Eragon.

"Shall I take first guard?" She asked.

"Yes." Eragon replied. "On guard!"

He drew his sword, and let it flash in the light of the blazing noon sun. They had not flown very far, so the sands and the winds of the Hadrac desert were still relatively mild.

"Are you ready?"

The fake Arya took a couple sips from a bottle. Then, her face began to melt back to it's original shape—a shape that Eragon was now very familiar with.

(To be continued in "Chapter Four: Bound")


End file.
